


Insanity

by Jenthetrulysly



Category: Hawaii Five-O (1968)
Genre: Dark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenthetrulysly/pseuds/Jenthetrulysly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how dark things get, there is always the small, uncrushable hope of salvation. </p>
<p>Steve just needs to find him before its too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traw/gifts).



Danny’s muscles screamed out in agony as the detective tried to struggle against the bonds that held him captive in this chair. It was no use; the heavy nylon rope restricted movement completely, each tiny move causing excruciating agony as the harsh rope rubbed against raw, pink skin. Every time the rope gave a little he was able to get the blood circulating again, but it was a moot point because it seemed to be flowing out of him, cascading in a sticky crimson river from the deep slash wounds on his chest. The detective’s shirt was sticky with moisture and the coppery stench of blood was stagnant all around him. He felt like he was going to throw up if he didn’t get any fresh air and the dizziness wasn’t helping things. Dan’s heart was beating too loudly in his chest and he was surprised that his captor couldn’t hear it; it was so loud. Someone must have heard it by now; it was loud enough to wake the dead.

“Y…y…you can tell…tell Fontaine...that he will never succeed.” The Second-In-Command gasped in defiance as he felt a rough hand grab at the hair on the back of his head, yanking it back so far that he couldn’t help the hiss on pain that passed through clenched teeth. His head was pulled back so far that he was surprised his neck hadn’t broken, though it felt like it was very close to it.

“I love it when you pretty boys think you can defy me.” The gentle, almost mocking voice said as his captor used his other hand to run it across the young detective’s face. Dan flinched when a rough callused thumb brushed a very tender bruise just under his left eye, as his eyes began to sting with unwanted tears. The captor then leaned close to Dan’s ear, close enough to smell the other man’s sweat and musk as he whispered, each word brushing against the soft shell of Danny’s ear. “I love it when I prove you wrong.”

The young detective shuddered as he was overcome with the strong urge to vomit, which only intensified when he could feel the heat leeching off his captor’s body in waves; it was disgusting, and he desperately wanted to get away from here. Hot, acid sick rose up his oesophagus, and he swallowed thickly to try and control it. He could also smell the stale stench of tobacco, smoke and dark hallways; a life spent in darkness. He tried to move his head away but the iron grip on his hair stopped him as he began to shake. Dan didn’t want any of this; he could take physical beatings to within an inch of his life but he was totally unprepared for this type of insidious assault, for which he was completely vulnerable. He had no way of protecting himself.

It wasn’t going to take much more, as he was already teetering on the dark edges of unconsciousness and the edge hovered tantalisingly close. He was at the limit of physical and psychological endurance; he craved the nothingness that would greet him, but his fighting spirit wouldn’t let him give in so easily, clinging to the last ounce of strength he possessed. His tie, which had been used as an impromptu blindfold was wrapped around his head, blocking his vision, which seemed to make things even worse. He could feel everything in minute detail, right down to the way his captor’s breath ghosted across his face, before disappearing completely.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the footsteps seemed to get quieter, as his tormentor moved away, but before he could do anything else he felt his sleeve pulled up to expose his upper arm then a needle jab into the skin. It was agony and he had to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from screaming; he wasn’t going to give the bastard that satisfaction.

“I seem to have almost lost you there, you looked deathly pale.” That mocking voice spoke again before probing fingers touched his lip, “Look, your lip is bleeding.” Dan felt the smoothness of fabric brush against his lips as his captor took great care in getting the blood off them. “Got to have you looking your best for the Boss when he gets here.”

“What...what did you…j…just…give…me?” Danny groaned out as he felt his pulse quicken. He took several shallow breaths to try and bring his racing heartbeat under control, but it just got faster and faster. In a few moments beads of sweat dotted his forehead and he felt like he was in the throes of the worst fever. He felt too hot, like he might combust at any given moment. His limbs began to jerk uncontrollably as strong spasms rocked his body; he was certain he was convulsing now.

“Something to make you listen to me.” The man replied, as he moved to stand beside the bound detective. “I only want to be your friend, I want you to stop fighting me, because that’s not what friends do to each other.” Confusion bubbled up inside Danny as he felt the handcuffs come undone, only to be replaced with the cold metal of a gun pressed warningly against the hollow of his throat. “Try anything funny and I will shoot to kill.” The gun trailed down his throat, chest and torso to rest against his calf as his tormentor bent down to fiddle with the metal restraints on his legs. The soft clanging of metal on wood told Danny that the restraints had come off. “Now get on the floor.” The man ordered as he stood up and kicked Dan’s legs hard, sending the detective to the floor.

He couldn’t help the grunt of pain as he landed on what was probably a heavily bruised rib before rolling face down on the floor. Dan wouldn’t be surprised if it was fractured. The movement caused the air to rush out of his lungs and he struggled to blink the tears from his eyes as his body screamed in protest at the rough treatment. He tried to move away from the hand that had seized his shoulder but his movements were slow and uncoordinated; for his attempt to defy Dan was pistol-whipped, causing a fresh stripe of unbearable pain to flare across his cheek. The agony was renewed when his tormentor stepped over him and sat down hard on his torso, straddling him. Danny screamed as his throat tore; his captor had finally pushed the detective past the barrier of endurance and he fought to breathe as the man moved upwards to settle just at the edge of his diaphragm. His hands were moved to his side before the other man used his thick legs to pin them tightly to Dan’s side.

“You can scream all you like, pretty boy; but no matter how much you do no one’s gonna hear you. McGarrett’s following the trail we left for him and it’s not going to take long before he finds himself sleeping with the fishies under the Pacific.” The man stopped for a minute and Dan could hear some sort of glass bottle being set down on the floor near where he was. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up. Can’t have you looking like shit in front of the Boss.”

Danny couldn’t breathe. Panic was clawing its way past the blank state of mind he had been carefully maintaining and whatever the man had given him seemed to amplify all his nerves, so that he could feel everything right down to the man’s bony knees and they dug hard against his sides. “No…” he murmured, squirming under the weight of his captor as he felt vile fingers move to work on the buttons of his shirt one-by-one to expose his chest to the chilly air. Fear rose up hot and sharp; despite himself he began to shake uncontrollably. He was dizzy as his heart was pounding so fast and hard against his ribcage that he wouldn’t be surprised if it gave out at any moment. “No!” Dan yelled with a bit more force as he tried to kick out with his legs, only to find them completely frozen in place.

“I knew you still had a little fighting spirit left inside you.” The other man said as he used his hands to skim down the heated plane of Dan’s chest, before placing a finger against the detective’s lips to silence him. “Shhh,” he hissed. “Let me help you.”

The panic turned into full-blown alarm as Dan found he had lost the ability to move. He wasn’t sure if it was the cocktail of drugs he had been injected with or whether it was his own fear. He was in too deep now and like the man had said McGarrett wouldn’t be coming for him now. The stinging in his eyes only got stronger before a soft sob tore out of his throat and he began to shiver. The Second-In-Command was thankful for the makeshift blindfold; it absorbed the tears that would have cascaded down his face and spared him the humiliation of breaking down in front of the man. Eyes were the window to the soul, and the fact that the other man wouldn’t be able to see his tear or recognise that he was breaking down completely from the inside was a very small saving grace. He didn’t want this, any of this and his fear paralysed him, holding him in place. It made him a coward, and he really hated himself for it. 

The dizziness only intensified as his breathing grew more erratic; soon Dan was fully hyperventilating as he heard the sounds of the lid being screwed off the cap. Other than the sounds of his own frantic breathing, there was a sense of anticipation in the air as the cap was laid gently on the floor with a muted thud. Liquid sloshed around in the bottle before Danny screamed as his skin was set on fire. His body arched against the man on top of him as he tried to get away from the hot agony. The detective was going to go insane if the pain didn’t stop soon, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually on fire. It was too intense and he felt his eyes roll backwards in his head as the wet cloth was pressed harder against the weeping slash wounds on his chest before the man used it to wipe downwards towards his torso. He screamed until his voice had gone hoarse and he was forcibly silenced as a fabric gag was shoved into his mouth.

“Can’t have you dying of an infection from these nasty wounds,” the man murmured softly as he continued his ministrations. “The hydrogen peroxide will see to that.”

The insertion of the gag was the final straw and he felt the darkness blanket over him as his mind and body gave up with the lack of oxygen. The gag was large enough to choke and the coughing spasm that hit him further deprived Dan of oxygen as his strength and endurance finally gave out. There was no hope of anyone finding him at this stage; from what he could tell he was sequestered somewhere far away from prying eyes in the urbanity of suburbia, hidden away from the intense search McGarrett was undoubtedly conducting.

Even though the rock may have been sealed off, it didn’t make a difference. As he fell off the edge into unconscious oblivion Dan realised that there was no hope of salvation. He couldn’t stop the sigh of relief as he finally succumbed to the darkness, nor could he quite quash the hope that Steve was going to find him before it was truly too late.


End file.
